


Mythomania

by songofdefiance



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Prompt Fill, Tentacle Sex (sort of), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:37:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofdefiance/pseuds/songofdefiance
Summary: Here is one thing she does know: she loves Delilah.  Wholly, completely, with her entire soul.  That has never been a lie, nor will it ever be.  The other truth, wrapped in this one like the vines that Breanna summons to safeguard the Conservatory, is that it hurts.





	Mythomania

**Author's Note:**

> So my friend gave me the prompt 'TENDRILS OF MY PASSION' because Breanna yells that (with the words 'CHOKE HIM' added) in-game if she's fighting Corvo (I think), and we thought it was hysterical. Somehow it turned into this surprisingly angsty, introspective mess of an attempt at a smut fic. I don't even know.

Breanna isn’t in the business of lying to herself.

She never bothered to do so when her parents were planning on selling her off to the nearest rich, old man - hadn’t bothered to try to comfort herself with fantasies of a rescue.  She didn’t lie to herself during the first few months after Daud sent Delilah to the Void, choosing instead to remake herself in Karnaca.  She didn’t lie to herself in the years after, even when she first heard Delilah’s voice whispering in her ear once again.  There was no guarantee of what it meant, no matter the promises it gave her.

Even here, now, with Delilah reclining against Breanna’s pillows, she doesn’t dare to believe that this means a rekindling of… whatever it was they had.  She’s not oblivious.  She knows of Delilah’s affair with the Duke, knows that the idea of Delilah truly loving either of them is laughable.

(Here is one thing she does know: she loves Delilah.  Wholly, completely, with her entire soul.  That has never been a lie, nor will it ever be.  The other truth, wrapped in this one like the vines that Breanna summons to safeguard the Conservatory, is that it hurts.)

“Your rooms are lovely, Breanna,” Delilah says, her voice carrying that odd echo.  “You’ve done very well for yourself here.”

Her rooms are nearly overgrown with plants of various species.  Before there had been a mix of scents from them all, as well as the smell of Karnaca that drifted in through the open window.  Now, everything is smothered in the cloying scent of roses.

“It wasn’t easy,” Breanna replies.  “It’s… I feel like I can finally  _breathe_ , now that you’re back.”

It’s exactly the kind of sentiment that Delilah would never show her, but it’s not a lie.

Delilah is still fully clothed, but when she sits up and says, “Come here,” Breanna feels her heart start to race in her chest.  She obeys with barely a thought, pausing awkwardly at the side of the bed.  

Delilah has never been patient.  “Surely I don’t need to spell it out for you.”  She pushes herself up so that she’s kneeling in front of Breanna, reaching forward and drawing a slender finger down the side of her face.  “Dear Breanna, I’ve missed you.”

They both know that Breanna’s feelings go far beyond simply ‘missing’ Delilah, but she says nothing of this.  “It’s been a while,” she admits, her voice rougher than she means for it to be.

Delilah throws her head back and laughs.  “Not  _that_  long,” she says, eyes glinting.  “Those nights, when you would invite women up to your rooms, ostensibly to show them your private greenhouse.  I know that you fucked them on this very bed, listening to their cries and thinking only of me.”

And  _that_  cuts deeper than Breanna would like to admit; she stiffens and feels Delilah’s hand still against her cheek.  She remembers it all too well - how she heard both the cries of the women she brought to her rooms, and the whispers that came from the Void.  She remembers not knowing whether it was the touch of her temporary lovers that sent her over the edge, or Delilah’s voice.

Foolish of her, to think that those moments had been private.

“Forgive me,” she murmurs.

Delilah smiles.  “There is nothing to forgive.”

Those words are enough; Breanna finally leans forward, pressing her lips to Delilah’s.  She’s forgotten what kissing Delilah feels like, and whatever Delilah might say, that is something that she cannot forgive herself for.  It is effortless to relearn, however, and it is even easier to allow Delilah to take the lead.

There has always been a hunger in Breanna, and it surges up now, but she resists the urge to press forward, to push Delilah down onto the bed and fuck her with her mouth.  She enjoys the ache that comes with resisting her own temptations, and her own self-control has always been something that Delilah praises her for.

They part for a moment, already breathing heavily, and Delilah wastes no time.

“I think,” she says, and Breanna is only half-listening, caught up in the knowledge that Delilah is breathless because of  _her_ , “that we’re both wearing a bit too much.”

Breanna unbuttons her jacket, forcing herself to be patient and take her time with it.  Her undershirt comes off a little more easily, and she tosses away her trousers last.  She doesn’t get the chance to remove her smallclothes before Delilah is pulling her back, kissing her again.

It’s rougher, this time.  Delilah’s fingers tangle in Breanna’s hair, damaging her elaborate hairstyle.  She sinks her teeth into Breanna’s lip, and Breanna lets her, settling her hands on Delilah’s hips.  She waits for cues from Delilah; when Delilah arches up into her, she breaks away to leave a trail of kisses down to Delilah’s chest, before taking one of Delilah’s nipples into her mouth.  Delilah sighs, her hands tightening in Breanna’s hair when she bites down gently.

“Very good,” she coos in Breanna’s ear.  “But I have to wonder - how  _do_  I measure up to the artist from Morley?”

Breanna stops.

“I seem to remember that she was very giggly,” Delilah said.  Breanna raised her head, realizing that she was kneeling between Delilah’s knees - she hadn’t even felt her own hit the floor.  “Giggly until the moment that you had her on her back, and she was  _begging_  you to fuck her.  You didn’t even hesitate.”

Breanna feels like her brain has slowed.  “You don’t beg,” is all she can say.

Delilah tuts and pulls her legs up so that she can scoot back and recline on the pillows again.  “Or the dancer.  The dancer who loved to talk to you about plants.  I knew you were tempted, then, but she was more interested in having  _you_  beneath  _her_ , and you didn’t enjoy that quite as much.”

Breanna drops her head down so that her forehead is pressed against the comforter.  She knows what Delilah wants - what she is asking for - but her magic has been gone for so long, and she has no idea if it would even work -

“You never used to shy away from what you wanted,” Delilah accuses her.  She makes as if to stand.  “Perhaps I should find Luca.  He would probably -”

Breanna’s head shoots up, and before she can really think about what she’s doing she pulls from the Void, the connection alive and familiar within her, and a vine wraps around Delilah’s wrist.

“Do not say his name,” Breanna snarls.  “He wouldn’t -”

Delilah’s eyes are glittering.  “Wouldn’t what?”

It’s almost too easy, now, and she feels the thrum of the Void as she summons another vine, pulling both of Delilah’s wrists back towards the headboard.  “He doesn’t know you like I do,” Breanna hisses, crawling forward until she’s hovering over Delilah.  “He doesn’t… he wouldn’t worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped.  His love is not equal to mine, nor will it ever be.”

There are more vines, now, and they snake their way up Delilah’s legs, brushing against her thighs.  Delilah shivers, and there’s no mistaking the light in her eyes when she looks up at Breanna again.  Adoration - Breanna could almost mistake it for love.

(It isn’t love.  Even now, Breanna will not lie to herself.)

“There you are,” Delilah whispers.  “My Breanna.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...yeah.


End file.
